


My Hero

by Aithilin



Series: Fresh Start [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11011077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Nyx didn't know what sparked the sudden argument, but he couldn't deny that the nickname had something to do with it.





	My Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted over at my [Tumblr](http://aithilin.tumblr.com/).

“It’s not your job to protect me.”

It had been the last thing Noct had said to him before leaving on another hunt. It had been the last words to hang between them, unanswered and stale, as Nyx had protested another call from Dave, another report of a missing hunter in the mountains. The phrase still lingered in the air, days later, leaving a bitter taste in Nyx’s mouth every time he took out his phone and played with the idea of texting a quick message out of habit. 

Nyx didn’t even know why he had fought so hard against the hunt. It wasn’t something difficult, or even dangerous— just a lost hunter that hadn’t reported in for a a few days after taking a bounty. Noctis had got the call from Dave in the morning and was ready to be out the door in the afternoon. He had left just an hour before Nyx opened up the bar for the night. 

But this came on the heels of the strange visit with Ignis— where something had passed between Ignis and Noctis that Nyx couldn’t understand, couldn’t see where it had suddenly come from. It was on the heels of weeks of nightmares, of seeing and hearing his memories merge with the stories of his dead lover’s last moments. Of knowing that there was a sadistic little Astral that had loved his martyr king toying with him now. Of dreaming that the lover who had died and the lover who warmed his bed were going to share the same fate, alone again and far away from where he could help. 

They call to go out into the wilds of the Galahd mountains came when Nyx had just been getting used to Noctis being home again. 

He had tried to argue that there were other hunters now. That there were other methods and roads and there was a newly formed network taking on the search and rescue tasks. He had tried to argue that Noctis was needed at home, that they were getting busier most nights now that the town was being built up as a proper outpost. He tried to argue that he needed Noctis home with him. To fend off the worst of the dreams being inflicted on him. He needed those quiet moments in bed when they woke each other up; those soft touches and smiles and the reminder that Noctis was there and breathing and living. 

But it all came out wrong. 

“Why does it need to be you?” he had asked when Noct was off the phone with Dave, when he was pulling out maps and listing what he might need. “At least let me go with you.”

“You have a bar to look after,” Noct had answered, kissing the corner of his mouth as he shoved the last of their potions into his pack. “It’ll just be a day or who.”

“You know I can watch your back, Noct. I can protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Nyx had almost missed the little smile from his lover at that; “nice sentiment though, hero.”

Something in the nickname struck him. Something jarred a thought loose. And for a moment, Nyx thought of a younger man— a prince with the same smile— saying the same thing years ago. A lifetime ago. Nyx grabbed onto Noct’s arm to stop him from leaving, “Don’t go. I don’t want you to go. You don’t need the money for this one. It’s my job to look after you, Noct.”

“Your job?” Noct scoffed at that, Nyx couldn’t remember the last time he had heard his lover actually scoff before. He couldn’t remember the last time his lover looked so offended. “Your job is here in the bar, Nyx. I’m not a professional hazard, I’m your boyfriend. And you know better than anyone that I can handle a simple recovery mission.”

“Noct—”

“It’s not your job to protect me, hero. I have that part covered.”

There were no texts or calls from Noct that night, and Nyx started to worry. He wanted to send his own messages, his own apology for whatever it was that had set off that hard look, that indignant tone from Noct in the end. He wanted to do something more than just listen to the new rumours from hunters passing through on their own bounties and with their own jobs doled out by Dave off in Lucis territory. But Noct always texted first— when he reached a haven or a safe cave to camp. It was their habit. Noct texted him first, called him first, let him know that he was in a safe place to answer. That he was somewhere safe where the noise or vibration of the phone wouldn’t attract attention. 

But Nyx wanted to be the first to speak. He wanted to apologise. He wanted to know that things weren’t ruined now. And he didn’t want to entertain the idea that Dave might show up in the bar with the little dog tags Noct had taken to wearing. 

On the third day without a check-in, Nyx gave in. 

_Come home to me, pretty thing._

The answer came late on the third day, when he had opened the bar and was cleaning up the empties while Libertus handled the food orders they had started to offer more frequently. That they had started to offer because Noct was usually around to help during the rushes. The answer came when Nyx had slipped out of the bar for a moment to dump a box for recycling, and get some fresh air. The little tone had caught his attention almost an hour earlier, but he had been too busy to check. 

Now, with a moment to breathe, he let himself smile as he saw Noct’s name appear in his screen. 

The smile faded as he recognised the hasty photo of a tattered map in the message, and nothing else. 

He pulled up his phone’s maps and tried to find the same point. Noct wasn’t far into the mountains— he knew that much, he knew that the mission was close by— but it was dark, and the roads were narrow. Nyx had rushed an explanation to Libertus and taken only the basics with him. 

It was sunrise when he finally found Noct, pale and shivering and with his pack of supplies no where in sight. 

“Noct! Shit,” Nyx fell hard to his knees in the dirt next to Noct, next to the dying little fire. There was blood, and not much else he could focus on as he fell into old field habits. It had been years, and he didn’t have the right supplies. It had been too long. 

“It was a coeurl,” Noct said, offering a little smile Nyx decided he had no right to be wearing. “Just need an elixir.”

“Your supplies—”

“Knocked over the edge.”

“Shit, Noct. You had your fucking phone with you, when did this happen?”

“Thought it was in my bag,” Noct had managed only the basics with what little he had, and Nyx knew that he wouldn’t be able to offer much more. At least not without the kits they had at home— the first aid supplies, the field medic kits he kept out of habit, the curatives they restocked as often as possible.

Nyx tore at the already ruined clothes to get to the gashes, cut the fabric open with his knife when it refused to tear cleanly— used a potion to clean off the blood that had soaked in to cloth and skin. “We need to get you home.” 

As carefully as he could, Nyx moved to Noct’s other side, the one that had sustained the fewest injuries. He lifted Noct gently, bringing Noct’s good arm across his shoulders. He balanced his lover against him as he stood, supported him with an arm around his waist as he started to manoeuvre them towards the path. At least in the daylight, the trip back down would be easier. At least now he wasn’t stumbling blind through the mountains with only a fragment of map and his own panic to drive him forward. 

He felt, more than heard, the little telltale huff of Noct’s laughter; “I swear to the Six, Noct, if you find this funny, I will end you.”

“Just thinking that you should have come with me.”

“Damn right.”

“My hero.”

“Fuck you, kid,” bit there was that nickname again, and Nyx felt a sinking in his stomach as it stirred something— raised some distant memory. Some connection he couldn’t quite place. And he didn’t know why his first reaction was to shoot back a long dead nickname of ‘little prince’ in response. He had better things to think about right now, in any case. “I’m going to kill you when we get home.”


End file.
